


What I Do For You

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Blackmail, Dubious Consent, Ecto-Genitalia, Fellcest - Freeform, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, Voyeurism, please read the tags, sansby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9481598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This was it. He agreed to this.But he would sacrifice it all for his and Papyrus' sake; this was his mistake and he was determined to amend it.However, does his brother really have to watch?(or basically: Papyrus and Grillby pimping out Sans for his late payments)





	1. Chapter 1

Sans was late on the rent. And Grillby was not too happy about that. 

He sat stiff on the edge of his mattress, spine strung straight, and sneaker tapping and bobbing anxiously on the carpet. Nervous sweat littered the surface of his skull, and his phalanges trembled on the fabric of his rumpled sheets.

He hated this.

He hated the waiting. 

But he dared not to leave from the safety of his bedroom until Papyrus came back from Grillby’s; this was his mistake, but Papyrus took it upon himself to resolve the issue, so Sans believed it was in good graces to not interfere with the negotiations. Despite that, Sans was mildly irritated when Papyrus pitched the blame; Papyrus had always felt the inclination to push forward and take control of nearly every situation, dutifully cleaning up San’s screw-ups, but this time, Sans adamantly objected to get his brother involved with his predicament. 

Sans jumped up from his mattress when a resounding slam from the front door nearly shook the whole house.

He scrambled off his bedside, his nerves jittered anxiously, nervously. This was not good. 

Sans wrenched open his bedroom door with trembling phalanges and cautiously peeked over the railing of the staircase, afraid to meet his brother’s disapproving glare.

But Papyrus wasn’t looking in Sans’ general direction, he was staring down at the carpet in unnerving contemplation, eerily quiet in his anger. Sans didn’t know what was worse, his brother’s usual exasperated tantrums, or the foreboding silence threatening to seethe over in rage. Sans’ voice broke through the tension and stuffed his hands in his pockets to appear less on edge, “so, what did he say, boss?”

Papyrus’ skull slowly lifted from his reverie, meeting Sans eye lights shaking in their sockets, but his voice was even and still, “HE WANTED TO EVICT US.”

Sans growled out angrily, “that’s fucking stupid, he can’t just do that! it was just one fucking payment!”

It was like a dam broke, and Papyrus growled out in irritation. Sans could be so ungrateful, and so selfish sometimes. 

“IT DOESN’T MATTER, SANS!” Papyrus bellowed, fist squeezing at his sides. “YOU HAVE TWO JOBS, STAND AT YOUR STATION AND PAY THE RENT, THAT’S IT!”

Sans scowled, but the hands in his coat pockets shook. Tears were on their way—they weren’t waiting, they didn’t care about his dignity or his sanity. “so i was late for a couple days,” He shrugged. “i told him i was gonna pay him.”

Papyrus massaged at his temples, “WHAT DID YOU SPEND YOUR MONEY ON THEN?!”

Smokes, mustard, alcohol.

“nothin’.” 

Papyrus grumbled low under his breath, frustrated with his brother’s inept attitude, “WELL, I HOPE WHATEVER YOU SPENT IT ON WAS WORTH IT, BECAUSE I HAVE MADE THE CONCLUSIVE DECISION TO CONTROL YOUR FINANCES.”

Sans snapped his teeth and glowered up at his brother’s much larger, intimidating frame, sizing him up, “no fucking way, papyrus. you’re being ridiculous.”

“I THINK ITS OBVIOUS THAT YOU CANNOT BE TRUSTED WITH SUCH IMPORTANT TASKS, SANS,” Papyrus shook his skull in reprimand. “I BELIEVE IT IS FOR THE BEST.”

“c’mon, papyrus, just tell me what the hell did grillby say?” He was sick of this, all of this overprotective bullshit. He knew that Papyrus had good intentions, but regardless, his brother’s level of fussiness was exasperating to say the least—Papyrus could be so nit-picky, but his brother often exclaimed and chocked it as strict diligence. 

Grillby was not the kind of monster that Papyrus would trust on a whim. Albeit, his brother did spend an awful amount of time and money at the fire elemental’s grease hole of an establishment. He destroyed his dignity, his reputation by practically begging the bartender for an extension. But after nearly an hour of negotiating, the bartender and Papyrus came to a more sensible form of agreement, one that did not jeopardize either of their lives or Papyrus’ status. Papyrus was not too fond of the idea, but he set his standards. It was the safest possible solution, and he had no other choice.

“GRILLBY, HAD AN…IDEA. BUT I WILL BE THERE TO SUPERVISE THE TRANSACTION IF SOMETHING GOES AWRY.”

Sans shivered, “what did he have in mind?”  
_____________

The bar was empty. It was a few hours past closing time, and Papyrus assured that no drunk stragglers would be lingering around the vicinity of the restaurant, he had patrolled the area three times over for good measure. This was a quiet meeting, one he wanted swept under the rug and snuffed down. 

If anyone else found out about this, he would never hear the end of it. Gossip spread around the Underground like wild fire, and Papyrus had worked too hard and tediously for his reputation to be tainted with scandals. 

Sans would do anything for Papyrus, and Papyrus would do anything for Sans. Sans held that thought still and stable like a mantra reverberating in his skull. He desperately tried to remind himself that, but the thought alone was not enough to cease the rattling of his bones. 

Sans shuffled his feet on the floor, unsure what to do with his body. 

He and Grillby were close, but never this close. Besides from the occasional flirting and joking over multiple rounds of alcohol, Sans had it ingrained that the relationship between him and the fire monster was strictly casual, a familiarity. However, when he would have enough drinks to dull his senses and to loosen his mind, his imagination would drift to a floaty precipice; dreaming of how Grillby would touch him here, and caress him right between and there, and fuck him on a bar table, over a rail, or against a wall. But now, all those fuddled, alcohol-induced daydreams and night-time specials were going to come true. 

Grillby stalked towards him, fire crackling in excitement and grin stretched wide, and Sans’ magic coalesced on instant inside his shorts, cunt wet and dripping with fearful arousal. Although Sans didn’t want to admit it out loud, Grillby looked _good_ ; his fire illuminated the dark corners of the closed bar, casting the room with a lukewarm glow that made Sans’ soul flutter like a butterfly’s wing. He was sexy; purple fire popping sparks of magic in the stifling air, and his body fit broad and snug in his formal jacket suit. 

Grillby’s leering smirk elongated even wider across his face; Sans held in a pathetic whimper—it was like Grillby wanted to consume him. The moisture between Sans’ legs gathered in droplets, threatening to roll down his tibias with a steady drip. 

This was it. 

He agreed to this.

But he would sacrifice it all for his and Papyrus’ sake. This was his mistake, and he was determined to amend it. 

Grillby chuckled low in his throat, almost emitting a growl, “Now Sans, there is no reason to be so frightened, we have a solid agreement.”

Grillby took two carnivorous steps forward, and Sans took two timid steps back, nearly tripping clumsily over a lone chair that was veered out across the hardwood floor.  
“No harm will befall on you if you hold onto your end of the bargain,” Grillby rumbled, assuring but feral. He reached out a fiery hand in soft temptation, but his eyes glowed nearly black with predatory mischief behind his glasses. 

With a flash of doubt, Sans quickly peeked out over Grillby’s leering frame to meet Papyrus' protective glare. His brother had his arms crossed uncompromisingly across his chest, and his posture was rigid and sharp against the wall, fangs grinding down on his lower jaw. Sans frantically searched his brother’s eye sockets for assurance. 

Papyrus nodded once, unyieldingly, silently. 

So it was decided and final. 

Sans was going to have sex with another monster in front of his brother. 

“Come here, Sans,” Grillby’s voice sizzled low like meat on a flame. 

Sans gulped, sweat drenching on his heated bones, but he relented, and took small, feeble steps to capture Grillby’s hand in his own shaking one. The heat from Grillby’s body was suffocating, and Sans could not hide the flustering blush creeping deep red on his bones. Grillby did not hesitate, gripping Sans’ hand hard and pulling him firmly against his hot torso, and Grillby jabbed a finger to tickle with sultriness underneath Sans’ chin, tilting his neck to strain up at Grillby’s smug face. 

“Why don’t you give us a kiss to start off?” He taunted, tongue flicking alluringly along his thin lips. Sans bashfully shifted his eye lights out of Grillby’s line of sight, avoiding his hungry stare, but he reluctantly reached up on the tips of his toes, phalanges gripping tight on the lapels of Grillby’s jacket suit, but Sans couldn’t quite reach. Grillby snickered condescendingly under his breath; it was cute to watch Sans fruitlessly struggle, he barely touched the fire elemental’s chest, so Grillby pushed him back down on his tarsals, “I have a better idea.”

Without confirmation, Grillby plucked Sans’ lithe body from the floor and battered Sans down onto a nearby bar table, crushing every salt shaker and condiment container in his lust, pinning Sans to the table with his stifling weight. Sans grunted out in shock and partial annoyance, legs kicked out lewdly in the air on either side the fire elemental’s hips.

Sans spoke through his clenched teeth, “damn, grillby, we get it. you don’t have to show off so much.”

The coal-black eyes behind Grillby’s glasses hardened and his mouth twisted into a patronizing sneer, “I wouldn’t be so cheeky, Sans.” He bowed his flaming head to whisper next to Sans’ skull, much too quiet for his brother to eavesdrop, fire glazing on his bones, “You’ve had this coming for a long time.” Sans shuddered with small panic, but kept his mouth shut, “You’re lucky I’m letting you off with just this; I should have thrown you to the dogs.”

With the circumstances as they were, Sans would have preferred to whore himself out privately to Grillby or some of his patrons to pay off the rent—it was certainly a better choice than succumbing to the fire monster in front of Papyrus’ pitying stares—but who knows how much of a risk that was. The dogs were rough, merciless, and above all, eager. They would have chewed him up and spat him out with their ravenous appetite for bones, and Sans could imagine the torture he would have had to endure to satisfy the entire squad of canines.

For that, he was reluctantly grateful.

Grillby’s groin was flush and leveled against the crotch of his shorts, his wetness sapped hot through the fabric, and the table grated rough and harsh on his back. Sans was usually content with Papyrus’ rough treatment in the sanctity of their home, but when Grillby slammed him down, Sans felt genuine fear—Papyrus was an expert on controlling the damage output of his magic, but with Grillby, he wasn’t so confident of the fire monster’s jurisdiction. 

Papyrus growled vehemently from across the room, “YOU ARE BEING TOO ROUGH WITH HIM!”

Grillby waved a dismissive hand in Papyrus’ general direction, his voice crackling in a mocking tone, “I won’t dust him, as long as he plays nice. Isn’t that right, Sansy?”

“y-yeah, i’m fine, boss. quit worrying ok?” Sans tried to put on his best brave face to console his brother, but his words tumbled out anxious and breathless. 

Papyrus scoffed to his side. 

Sans shivered as Grillby’s frame loomed over his much smaller body, phalanges anxiously scratching the edge of the table pressed behind him. Grillby’s slammed his hands on each side of Sans’ skull, rattling the table, huffing breaths that heated Sans’ bones. The fire monster leaned down and crashed his burning lips on Sans’ clamped down teeth, tears prickling on the edges of his sockets.

He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to be treated like some sex toy. 

Especially not with his brother watching him, reduced to this pathetic state. 

It was sick, so sick. 

Grillby’s kiss was possessive and commanding, and Sans wasn’t used to this kind of kiss—it was nothing compared to the deliberate yet gentle pecks he and his brother shared seldomly, but the hard press of Grillby’s tongue had his spine arching into the heat. 

“Open up, Sansy.”

Sans surrendered, prying open his jaw and creating a tongue, but he did not allow his body to go slack. There was still a part of him that wanted to fight, wanted to push Grillby away, but he knew it was pointless, they had a deal, and it was too late to back out of it. 

Grillby grabbed the outside folds of Sans’ jacket and pulled him closer to the heat of his body. The magic sparked through Sans’ ribs, and from this angle, Sans could watch over Grillby’s shoulder at his brother’s strained form against the wall. Papyrus’s claws were clenched on his arms, but to Sans’ surprise, he could detect a look of hunger in his brother’s eye sockets. 

Was he…getting off to this? 

Sans was plenty aware of his brother’s rather sadistic streak in the bedroom, but this was something else entirely. 

The fire elemental’s tongue nearly seared through Sans’ own conjured tongue in long, drawn-out kisses that shot pangs of erotica to Sans’ dripping opening. Sans raked his phalanges down Grillby’s arms encasing his body to contain his shriveling whimpers. At this point, Grillby’s arousal was apparent; Sans could feel it through his slacks, erection hard and fevered. Sans breathed out a moan and deliberately rubbed his loins on the stiff appendage, enticing the erection to bulge tight on the zipper of the pants, and Sans’ pussy suctioned from lack of penetration. 

The heat was getting to him, the magic engulfed and bled like fire in his soul. Soon, Sans was lost to the flurry sensations. 

Grillby broke free from the kiss to throat out a hearty groan, “Fuck, Sans, you really want this, don’t you?” 

Sans could only stare in Grillby’s eyes for mercy; he really didn’t want to say it in front of Papyrus, and an embarrassed blush spread down his bones. But it felt so damn good, he needed more. 

He whimpered and fervently reached for the zipper on Grillby’s pants to save himself from the awkward tension and to get this over with, but Grillby swatted his hand away. 

“Now, now, you’ll get your fill all in due time,” Grillby hunkered back over Sans to assail his bones with biting pecks. It hurt, but felt so good, and Grillby attacked his feeble neck and clavicles with searing kisses that fizzled straight to his soul—but all Papyrus could think about was how Grillby was going to leave marks. 

Of course Grillby would. He wanted to mark and show off his trophy. 

But for some reason, the notion excited Papyrus down to his core. This was real. So real. It thrilled him to mediate that while his brother was in the clutches of another monster, he still had the endowment to call the shots, to determine the endeavors of the agreement, to be the authority that decides on Sans’ pleasure or torment however he willed it to be. It filled him with a sense of control and power that was foreign to him, and he could not shake the innervation of longing. Longing to see his weak, fragile brother bent over backwards in multiple positions getting _fucked_ by someone that wasn’t _him_ ; he fantasized how Sans would look—a exquisite, gasping creature pearled in sweat and flushed in heat—trapped beneath the magic of another monster, but only searching for _him_ , eye lights trained solely on _him_ , reaching out with trembling hands and begging Papyrus for more and more. 

Alone and aching on the sidelines, Papyrus felt his arousal grow ardently. 

He never thought this would turn him on as much as it did. 

“So Papyrus, you are the guest of honor tonight,” Grillby declared, sarcastically. His eyes stayed cemented on Sans’ glowing face, gleaming feral and hungry, “What shall I do first to our little Sansy here?”

Sans rubbed at the burning indentations from Grillby’s teeth that threatened to bruise over, and snickered off to the side, “talk about class, can’t you take off my clothes at least? give me a little warm-up?”

Grillby’s hand sneaked between Sans’ fibulas, kneading what was wet and damp and eager for him; Sans loins drenched through the fabric, “I believe you are plenty ‘warmed-up’.”

He nudged a greedy finger against the shorts covering Sans’ conjured pussy, and automatically, Sans’ insides sucked on the tip of that finger and the cloth surrounding it, and not a second later did sap pool around the expanse of the fabric. Grillby swirled his finger on the sensitive bundle of nerves; flicking, pinching, and twisting, causing Sans to moan lazily. 

Grillby withdrew his digit, sticky string of Sans’ wetness clinging and sizzling off the tip, and Sans groaned in dissatisfaction, “Keep talking, Sans. Or we might just have to punish you some more.”

“YES, BROTHER. WE HAVE AN AGREEMENT.”

Sans’ eye lights flickered past Grillby’s body to his brother, noting the intense look of curious enthusiasm that graced his brother’s face. 

…And the swelling in the crotch of his black, uniform pants. 

“THE CONSEQENCES WILL BE SEVERE IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY.”

Grillby chuckled darkly, “So, what do you want me to do?” He pressed his groin on Sans’ pussy, stiff and still. 

Sans could not contain the shudder that jolted down his spine and straight to his arousal when Papyrus declared, openly and unabashed, “FUCK HIM.”

Sans spluttered in fear, and kicked around the fire monster’s weight keeping him pinned to the table, “shit, wait a sec, boss!” Sans voice elevated into a destressed pitch, “c’mon boss, there has to be something else we can do, we can—“ 

One thrust cuts him off. One thrust was all it took, and his thoughts were scrambled everywhere. Grillby’s aching erection stabbed through his shorts, searing degrees of heat that seeped straight into his conjured magic. Sans’ eye lights dilated and glistened in a stupor and his legs buckled around Grillby’s waist, but his face fought to keep down his frown, “f-fuck.”

He was huge. 

Grillby pressed hard on the button that makes Sans weak in the knees—the spot that makes Sans want to beg to feel the pressure of his brother’s strong hips clashing and breaking his spine’s vertebrates. Sans keened at the slow, teasing grinds, and he wrapped his legs around Grillby’s neck to intensify the stimulation, toes curling in his socks. He licked at the saliva leaking from his maw to keep from crying out the fire elemental’s name, but a particularly rough grind on his pussy had him spluttering lewdly.

This was insane; he shouldn’t be doing this, especially not with Papyrus standing right _there_. He was so disgusting, so vile for enjoying this. 

He hoped that Papyrus was not as, if not more, disgusted with him than he was with himself. For liking it.

Sans moaned wantonly.

He _liked_ it. 

Papyrus balked at the sounds Sans was only supposed to make for _him_. And he felt his chest constrict; jealousy, hot and tempered, burned at his soul. But also at his groin.  
“What do you want, Sansy?” The tone in Grillby’s voice was husky, emitting low like a lit flame. 

Sans covered his face with his arms, hiding his embarrassed blush, tears niggling at the back of his sockets, “…i-i want y-you… inside m-me.”

Papyrus couldn’t look away, his arousal spiked up and he groaned out, “AS DO I, BROTHER.”

Grillby’s black eyes flickered in amusement, “Oh, so you like this, Papyrus? You like seeing me manhandle your only brother, to make him surrender to me?” He chuckled low in his throat, almost pitifully, “You are as pathetic as he is.” 

Sans was quick on the uptake, and mumbled out with as much dangerous intent he could muster, “s-shut the fuck up, grillby.” He hardened the tone of his voice through his bubbled passion. Papyrus was sensitive about stuff like that; he had no right to talk about his brother that way, no right. 

Grillby snapped his head back at Sans, glowering over him; he was seething with anger, not arousal. With a fluid motion, Grillby freed his aching cock from the zipper on his slacks, fat and swollen and dripping. Sans learned his lesson too quick before he was able to even digest it. Punishing Sans for his disobedience, he entered Sans without warning, filling him to that tiny, tiny hilt with his length right through the fabric of San’s shorts. Sans eye lights blew out, and his spine arched and cramped up, voice hoarsening out into a surprised shriek. It felt like his soul was in this throat, and he clawed at the table to support his frame.

“You do not command me, slut,” Grillby growled, voice dripping with animosity. 

Grillby added on to the torture by swirling his hips in a circular motion, stirring up Sans’ syrupy insides instead of plunging, driving Sans crazy. Grillby buried his cock deeper until Sans could feel him at his bottom-most ribs, until his legs were straddling the air, until his spine burned from the strain. His slick walls were painfully tight around the fabric encasing Grillby’s length, and his phalanges splayed out on the table before sitting up and grappling onto Grillby’s shoulders, pleading for mercy, “oh my god. please please, grillby please.” Sans panted like a dog.

“HE IS REALLY IN THERE, ISN’T HE, SANS?” Papyrus choked out. He couldn’t wait to watch the bartender fuck his Sans—to reduce his deviant wretch of brother to a shriveling, pleading, deplorable, pathetic, sexy mess. He’s never been this hard before, and his phalanges raked down the wall behind him to keep his hands off of himself. 

Gaze intently locked on Papyrus, fevered tears streaming down his skull, Sans ushered out, “you have no idea.” 

This was exciting for him too. 

Like a greedy slut, Sans rolled his hips in relentless desperation to feel the walls of his conjured sex give suction to Grillby’s cock at the base.

Grillby’s hips trembled, “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

Papyrus moaned and agreed earnestly, “HE REALLY IS.”

“And he’s tight too,” The bartender rocked his hips to pull free, “Shit, he won’t let go. Have you really been taking good care of him? I don’t think you’ve been giving it to him hard enough.”

It was humiliating and degrading; for Sans to be mangled like some common whore, and for Papyrus to be regarded as less of a monster, and yet both are lost in their black passion. 

Grillby finally managed to pry himself out of Sans’ constricting, fluttering walls, cock pulling out in a messy, obscene sight. Sans groaned out from the pressure released in his pussy, but he didn’t even have time to blink when the fire monster yanked his shorts off his pelvis, and slid him down to the ground, eye level at Grillby’s throbbing length, blistering off the wet sheen from Sans’ sex.

“Your punishment isn’t over, Sans. Kiss my cock before it fucks you. And mind the teeth.” Grillby held the base of his cock, smearing the tip on Sans’ teeth, and Sans squinted through his tears. 

“WAIT.”

Grillby groaned in exasperation, but he let his cock swirl around the edges of Sans eye socket, mixing in tears and pre-cum. 

“SANS, OPEN YOUR MOUTH,” Papyrus’ breath huffed. Sans was intrigued by his directness, but he readily complied, slowly unhinging his jaw. 

“NOW, STICK OUT YOUR TONGUE.”

Sans shivered from his brother’s deep rumble, but he obeyed, tongue quivering out in desperation.

He wanted it; the bulbous tip twitched on his eye socket, and he wanted to feel it in his mouth, slurping on the bartender’s length till Grillby’s release shot down his throat.  
Sans wished Papyrus wouldn’t think of him any differently tomorrow. Seeing him debauched and depraved on the hard, wooden floor with another monster’s cock teasing around his mouth. And roused by it, liking it. He hoped that after all this, Papyrus would still want him. 

Sans snuck a glance past Grillby’s flaming body, scared to bear witness the look of antipathy that surely would be plastered on Papyrus’ features. But to his awe, blushed red to the bone, Papyrus looked rapt, angry, aroused, and desperate. 

That was when the thought surged through his skull in surprising realization, Papyrus _wanted_ this. Papyrus didn’t sneer away in repulsion, or threatened to disown him, or spit out heavy lines of menace to the fire monster, promising a slow, suffering death. Sans was really good at reading people, and in all of Papyrus’ usual gruffness, bluntness, and emotional shoves, Sans did not detect a single trace of those expressions—Papyrus was watching intensely, hungrily and Sans soaked up that attention, finally capable of being a brother worthy of Papyrus’ scrutiny. It was a heady feeling, and he felt pursued, fulfilled, acknowledged, _lusted_ and _sought out_ by the only person that mattered to him the most in this filthy little world. 

Well then, if Papyrus wanted a show, he’ll give him one. 

Sans eye sockets relaxed, fluttering closed, and puckered his tongue on the tip of the fire monster’s erection. Surprisingly, the fire didn’t burn harshly, but left an afterglow of tingling simmers, filling Sans’ mandible with soft heat. Sans liquored up the pre-cum and lapped at the gushing slit, his lazy moans causing the fire monster’s thighs to jitter. He dragged his tongue on the underside of the length, feeling it pulse with excitement underneath his tongue, and he lavished it from base to tip, swirling the sticky sap with his saliva and relishing the fire monster’s hisses and groans. 

Grillby threw his head back in ecstasy and gripped the sides of Sans’ skull for leverage, “I should have made you did this a long time ago, Sansy.” He gasped softly when Sans nibbled on the tip, licking on the feeling until the tip turned blue. 

Papyrus was nearly breathless, and he ached to palm himself through his pants confining his own arousal, magic ready to exert and shift in form. Through Grilllby’s quiet hisses and sighs, he imagined himself in the fire monster’s place, enduring the beautiful agony that Sans’ sloppy mouth can exhibit; it was a favored activity in the bedroom that Papyrus enjoyed, Sans was always eager to get down on his knees and service Papyrus until his brother’s erection stretched his jaw painfully tight at the corners while he licked and sucked it deeper and deeper into his mouth, until Papyrus was spluttering for him to continue, claws threatening to tear through the sheets.

“You have such a good little mouth, Sans,” Grillby smirked, and Sans hummed in approval. 

“SUCK HIM IN DEEPER, SANS. STOP TEASING.”

Sans let the bartender’s cock slip from his jaw, and playfully wagged the tip of his tongue, teasing on the underside of the fiery appendage, “so, you like that, huh?” Grillby could not tell if Sans was talking to him or Papyrus.

“SH-SHUT UP, SANS. JUST DO IT!” Despite the harsh exclaim, Papyrus spoke through clenched teeth, eager and excited for what was to come.

Their eyes connected for a second before Sans dived back on his brother’s command, slurping and gulping until Grillby’s cock shined with his slobber. Grillby felt the need to buck, the sweat and the heat were building, his arousal twitching in Sans’ mouth, but he didn’t want it to end here. With his shorts abandoned on the floor, the heat from Grillby’s body and the coolness of the bar wracked at his aching pussy, his inner walls contracting from lack of penetration. Sans shyly touched a lone phalange on the outer folds, stroking himself. 

Grillby caught sight of this and laughed breathlessly, “Are you wet, Sans?”

Sans only whimpered in response.

“ANSWER HIM, SANS.”

Sans’ other attended hand shriveled into a fist on the cold, hardwood floor, pulled back from the straining erection stained with his dripple, and he mumbled out, “…yes.”

“YES WHAT?”

He spoke with a little more vigor, but still felt slightly ashamed, blush burning a deeper shade of red, “...yes…i’m wet.”

“FOR WHO?” Papyrus moaned. 

“…for him.” 

Grillby grinned and snorted, this was just too rich. 

“As much as I love your pretty, little mouth, slut, I think you’re ready for the main course.” Grillby scoped up Sans’ body to rest back on the ledge of the table, and gripped Sans’ tibias to press his cock flush against his sensitive magic, wetness dripping over the edge of the table. Grillby then yanked Sans’ arms to pull his ribcage to meet with his upper torso, readjusting Sans so that his chin rested on the fire monster’s shoulder, fisting the top of Grillby’s suit jacket and holding on for dear life, staring headlong at his brother’s expectant face. 

Sans’ eye lights sharpened into pin pricks, shaking in their sockets. This was happening. This was really happening. 

Grillby took himself in his hand, rolling the tip of his cock on the slippery bundle of nerves, heat blooming through Sans’s pussy and up to his soul pounding on his sternum. He dipped to slide his cock up and down the slick folds, gathering up the wetness that accumulated there, prepping for the inevitable. Sans groaned in appreciation and overwhelmed tears rose in his sockets, blurring the bar into a haze of darkness and fuzzy shapes. Papyrus stood out aglow in his vision, leaning against the wall with his bones trembling in desperate heat, like he was trying to reach for Sans. This made Sans more bold, knowing his brother wanted this just as much as he did—even if it was just for his body, the feeling of being wanted struck him hard, and in earnest, Sans wrapped his legs around the fire elemental’s grinding hips, silently begging for him to enter as the tip prodded at his opening. 

Sans spoke in a pleading croak, “please, fuck me already. i need it.”

“YES, FUCK HIM. FUCK HIM HARD.” Papyrus heard the words before he realized he had spoken. 

“That is the only way I plan to do it.” 

Sans’ magic locked on instant when Grillby’s cock poked at the raw lips, and he bit his tongue when the thickness stretched him, walls convulsing to squeeze and suction the bartender’s cock and arousal gliding like water down the length. The deeper Grillby pushed, the tighter he clenched around the length; Sans was sucking the very life out of it, spluttering out droplets of pre-ejaculation. Grillby grunted as he pulled out, fire sizzling with enthusiasm, “Fuck, you’re so tight. Relax, Sansy.”

Sans panted; the room was spinning in his lust, but his eye lights never left Papyrus’ visage. He really did feel like a slut, loving the way the fire monster filled him to the brim.

Grillby pushed back in, and keep pushing in until Sans gagged out a strangled cry, widening the skeleton’s walls to accommodate his girth. Fully settled in Sans’ warmth, Grillby started a quick rhythm, pounding relentlessly as the table underneath him wheezed from the motion. The black jacket underneath Sans’ phalanges was being clawed through the exertion, and his cries rang out, escalating in pitch. The bartender’s hips crushed into Sans’ pelvis, movements jolted but precise, resulting in wave after wave of pleasure in each rough thrust. 

Sans gasped out in delirium, tears streaming down his skull, but his eye lights met Papyrus’—only Papyrus’. 

Grillby leaned his head down to lick at Sans’ neck bone, and San shuddered as the warmth spread all along the expanse of his body, like magma drenched over his bones. Papyrus could barely hold down his own orgasm fluttering down his spine at hearing Sans’s cries of rapture, “HOW DOES IT FEEL, BROTHER?”

Sans babbled through the sweat and the fever, smiling weakly, “so…good, he feels so good…i-i can barely stand it,” He could feel the bartender’s cock slamming up into his bottom-most ribs, “it’s so hot, but s-so g-g-good.” 

Sans wanted to scream out when Grillby nearly slid all the way out, “no, no please don’t stop. more please.” He lost his breath when Grillby hammered back in, burying his cock in his magic, “i feel so full, papyrus.” 

His dripping walls splashed droplets of wetness that rolled over Grillby’s pants and his fibulas, and he feverishly reached down from the bartender’s pulsing hips to rub his throbbing, sensitive clit in slow circles. Grillby smacked his hand away, and countered Sans’ pathetic, hopeless stroking with pumping his groin harder against him until Sans could feel the fabric of Grillby’s slacks scaping at his clit. Between the sounds of pounding hips, jolting whines from the table, and Sans’ constant barrage of moans, Papyrus held his gaze on Sans’ face scrunched up in ecstasy. With his free hand, Sans reached out for Papyrus over Grillby’s shoulder, phalanges splayed out and arm straining and trembling in the air, “please, papyrus. please!” He didn’t even know what he was begging for. 

Papyrus voice was pitched lower, urging him, “WHAT IS WRONG, SANS? DON’T YOU LIKE IT, DON’T YOU WANT TO CUM?”

Sans’ spine would be out tonight, if the bartender continued his assault on his body. His toes squirmed and curled in his socks, his climax building and building as Grillby bucked rougher and faster than before, and Sans could feel the tremors in the bartender’s thighs as his pussy spasmed. 

Grillby groaned out, alluding to his impending orgasm.

Papyrus panted, but quickly brought his hand up to shield his mouth of his obvious arousal, “YES, FILL HIM UP.” 

Sans squeezed his eye sockets shut to gulp back the tears as he salivated, “no, no, papyrus. don’t look.” He felt so wanton, vile, and bad, “i’m gonna cum, papyrus!”

Without warning, Sans’ walls clamped tight around Grillby’s cock, and his skull exploded from the pleasure. Grillby grunted, feeling his orgasm bubble as he drove into Sans’ pussy, rushing to meet the wetness that leaked out like a river. A couple more thrusts, and Grillby released inside the fluttering walls, scalding Sans’ insides with his fiery spurts that oozed out and around the length of his cock. Sans opened his mouth to moan out his last cry as he was overflowed and filled to the brim. 

Sans couldn’t stop his shaking, or the sting of saliva that leaked down his mandible from his wheezing mouth. And Papyrus could barely contain himself, but a sharp pang of envy wracked through him. 

He wondered if Sans would still want him after this. 

Grillby moaned out, his length sweltering with Sans’ cum, and gave the tibias that were wrapped tightly and earnestly around his torso a squeeze, keeping himself full inside the magic as his last drops were milked out of him. Sans still had his skull resting on the bartender’s shoulder, arms limp at his sides, eye sockets lazily shut in serenity, and smile twitching contently at the corners. He did not want to move as his magic twitched from overstimulation, the cum was so hot as it drippled out of him and down his tibias, staining the table. He just wanted to enjoy this blissful, short second of euphoria while he could, relishing how his body felt so good and used, and his mind was blank from thought, blank from embarrassing guilt, blank from self-hating revulsion. 

He wasn’t prepared for Papyrus to shun him away. 

Grillby broke Sans’ post-orgasm stupor when he spoke, tone playful, “Great job, Sans. You sure know how to put on a show,” The bartender pulled out and stroked his cock along Sans’ pubic bone, smearing his cum obscenely on the flushed bones, wiping away the wetness that stuck to him and leaving burns along his path. He chuckled darkly as his head fizzled and sparked next to Sans’ skull, “We should do this more often, I could consider this as a monthly payment over gold.” 

Sans couldn’t speak as the words resounded in his head, but he contemplated over the offer for a second, and then mentally slapped himself for indulging in the idea. He really was a slut. Grillby nuzzled his head against Sans’ sweaty cranium, “Think about it, you know where to find me.”

Grillby untangled himself from Sans’ stiff, jointed fibulas, and tucked his now flaccid cock back in his pants and zipped himself up. He turned to face Papyrus, bones red and flushed, and smirked before gesturing to Sans’ limp body strewn and leaking on the table, “He’s all yours, or what’s left of him.” Grillby straightened his suit and calmly disappeared in the door behind the bar counter, leaving the bar to shroud in almost complete darkness without his flaming body. Papyrus grumbled, the bartender didn’t even bother to wipe down the table afterwards. This place was truly distasteful. 

It was quiet, sparing Sans’ breaths calming down. He had his arms thrown over his face to hide himself, and his tibias were spread out indecently, his magic was still intact, pushing out the remnants of Grillby’s load. 

Papyrus touched Sans’ fibula with hesitance and Sans hiccupped wetly, tears brimming over the edges of his sockets, “i-i’m so sorry, papyrus. don’t look, oh god, please, i’m so sorry.”

“SANS, IT’S OK,” Papyrus struggled to keep his voice from trembling. 

Sans shook his head, adamantly, “no, it’s not ok. i’m so disgusting,” Sans sobbed out, “how can you even stand to look at me right now?”

Papyrus felt anger bubbling up his spine; Sans looked glorious, bones rosy and crimson, well-fucked and ravished. He looked absolutely delicious.

“DON’T BE RIDICULOUS, SANS,” Papyrus leaned down to snatch his shorts that was casted aside during the love-making. 

Sans continued to blubber painfully through his tears, “…so disgusting, you must think i’m such a slut.”

Papyrus didn’t say anything, and he slammed down his hands on the table to lean over his brother’s body, rattling the table. Sans eye sockets opened wide with tears streaming down his cheekbones, and he ran a worried look up and down his brother’s intense expression, “papyrus, what—“

His brother interrupted him, voice rumbled low with fervor, “SANS, YOU WERE AMAZING. IF IT WASN’T FOR MY CONCERN OF YOUR STAMINA, I WOULD FUCK YOU RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW ON THIS TABLE.”

Sans’ eye lights completely vanished and his magic clenched with renewed passion. Sans reached out to wrap his arms around Papyrus’ neck, suddenly he did not feel as ashamed as he did before, knowing that his brother earnestly enjoyed this. But he couldn’t completely shake away the strings of humiliation and shame that entangled him. He could never walk into Grillby’s again without thinking about how he was used here. 

Papyrus shimmied Sans’ shorts back up his pelvis, noting how the wetness continued to trail down Sans’ legs and moistened the tip of his glove. He sighed and dutifully lifted Sans from his mess on the table, “LET’S GO HOME TO CLEAN YOU UP.”


	2. Chapter 2

Snowdin was quiet and nearly desolate at this hour as Papyrus strode at a brisk pace to their house. The citizens of the frost-bitten town knew as such: it was not safe or advised to be out so late into the night. It was an unspoken and inherit rule; monsters loved to lurk and stalk in the dark, and due to the low populace, it was easy to pick clean of the weaker monsters that may be scavenging in the nighttime.

Curled in the strong expanse of his brother’s arms, Sans was shaking and shivering in tow. With weak joints aching in exhaustion, his expression was twisted in a pained grimace, and his eye sockets were closed tight to avert from Papyrus’ concerned gaze. He just didn’t want to deal with any of this right now…he didn’t want anyone to see him like this—he didn’t want to feel this way.

Used. Broken. Fragile.

But he was temporarily relieved that the usual sprawling residents of Snowdin were not around to gawk and stare while he was reduced to this depraved state. Sans wouldn’t hear the end of it. He could image the piteous yet ravenous looks monsters would give him; ogling and fawning over a small monster like him who looked absolutely vulnerable and ripe for the taking. Dominant monsters would be bending themselves backwards to snatch him up and claim him as their own.

He knew what the guard dogs whispered behind his back during his rounds in the forest with Papyrus; raving on and on about how easy it would be to stake ownership over him, to pull, bend, and rearrange him in their sick fascination and amusement. Dogs loved bones after all, and they coveted over the prospect of possessing a monster made up of the exact entity they pined over. So, understandably, Sans was precautious to interact with the dog monsters at all. He sat the furthest away he could manage from their claimed spot at the bar, and kept general conversation with them light and fleeting.

Sans struggled to maintain an intimidating persona; he casted a much smaller shadow than his brother did. Papyrus shined in his splendor; he was the strongest monster Snowdin had to offer, and the monsters of the town knew this, and in that fact, the residents veered away from his presence in fear and trepidation. But Sans carried his reputation in town—nearly everyone knew of him—and monsters found him more easy to converse with, given that he appeared to be less aggressive and reprimanding than his brother.

Sans could feel the remnants of Grillby’s ember-like release still plastered on his cold pelvic bone and femurs, slightly charred like burn marks. His magic degenerated a while ago from stepping out into the cold, shriveling up as the frost cut through him. The natural warmth of Grillby’s restaurant allowed his magic to fester in his debauched arousal, but in absence of that warmth, his conjured flesh shuddered and dissipated in recoil. The loss of weight and reversion of his magic did little to comfort him as Papyrus made haste to their home.

His pelvic bone throbbed and ached from the exertion he had to endure, and his shorts chaffed at him, fabric riding roughly on his sensitive bones. All over him were multiple scorch marks from Grillby’s roaming, adamant touches, darkening his bones in greyish black streaks. Sans was not so equipped with utilizing healing magic, and he was sure that Papyrus could salve over those dark marks, but the gnawing, gross feeling that wracked at his soul didn’t want to give his brother allowance to do that. He’d rather heal it himself in his own confined privacy, where he could hide in shame in his bedroom, avoiding Papyrus’ prying eyes.

His body was limp and loose in fatigue, arms dangling at his sides while Papyrus held him close. It was nice to be wrapped up in his brother’s tight embrace, like nothing could touch him. He felt the safest he possibly could be, resting against Papyrus’ much broader frame.

But a thought rang and nagged at his skull: how safe could he really be if Grillby was able to ensnare him so easily? And how terrible was it that he discreetly enjoyed it?

Sans ducked his head into the soft fabric of Papyrus’ scarf to snuff down his self-revulsion, nuzzling into the slight warmth his brother’s magic gave off. He was barely aware that they had entered their home, snapping back into reality when he felt the lumpy cushions of their couch under him, the coins beneath the cushions jangled under his weight.

The leather from Papyrus’ gloves creaked in duress; his hands were trembling against Sans’ covered ribcage, as if he was afraid that Sans would shatter under him. His skull was turned in the other direction and his body was tense in constraint. Sans ran a worried look up and down Papyrus’ face, etched with forlorn, and murmured with caution, “hey, bro, you okay? you’re kinda staring off into space.”

Sans needed Papyrus to be okay, because he doubted that he would be able to stave off his own self-loathing. He needed Papyrus’ clarity, because he feared he would collapse into himself.

He did not receive any sort of response, and it terrified him.

“c’mon bro, tell me what’s wrong. i can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong,” Sans pleaded, lowly. 

_please don’t think of me any differently. please don’t hate me._

He was met only with deafening silence.

Sans’ phalanges tugged at the furniture under him to keep himself composed, wetness stinging at the corners of his eye sockets, “…please papyrus…talk to me,” His voice cracked in desperation.

With hesitance, Sans touched the top of one of Papyrus’ hands with his own, hoping to stir up some kind of reaction from his brother’s troubling trance, to break down that barrier that Papyrus constructed affront. Papyrus’ trembling quaked over slowly, life breathing back into him. Sans soothingly rubbed his phalanges along Papyrus’ metacarpals, and Papyrus let loose a heavy sigh that seemed to rip from him.

Papyrus gently slipped his hands from under his brother’s hold, squeezing Sans’ metacarpals in reassurance, and stood with deliberateness. Sans cringed hurtfully as if he did something wrong, shrinking into the security of the couch before worrying his name, “…pap, what—,”

Cutting him off, Papyrus’ voice was barely above a whisper, sounding totally not-Papyrus, “—I’M FINE, SANS,” Papyrus pinched at the top of his nasal bone, “JUST…STAY HERE, I WILL GO GET A WASHCLOTH TO CLEAN YOU OFF.”

With that, Papyrus left the living room to scour their small kitchen for a bucket and a small cleaning towel, leaving Sans to twist and curl in the cushions to cover his legs in shame, hiding the abundance of cum still flaking off his femurs. Sans was immensely troubled by Papyrus’ sudden distant behavior. He seemed so enthusiastic back at the bar; Sans did not fully understand it, but judging by the original arousal that sparked in them back at Grillby’s, he could blame it on the spur of the moment that made himself and Papyrus so unhinged. But now, that addicting warmth that enticed them before, seemed to have simmered and wavered off into awkward tension. Where did they stand now? Sans wasn’t entirely sure—their relationship never veered off course like that before—and while it was tantalizing to bask in that lewdness, the aftermath surely was not worth it; flitting and tip-toeing around each other in evasion was soul-wrenching, and right now, Sans needed Papyrus’ leverage to stabilize his own. He needed that unbreakable force to lean and recover against.

He needed Papyrus to be strong for him right now, because he could not muster the strength to support himself on his own.

The rush of flowing water hitting the bottom of the bucket from the kitchen sink roused Sans from his thoughts. He rubbed at his temples to soothe the headache that pounded at his skull; he was just so goddamn _tired,_ , he just wanted to sleep away his stress for a couple of hours. Although, given how late it was and with morning approaching, he was certain that Papyrus would not allow him to sleep for long because he still had work in the morning; he hoped he could bribe his brother for more time and sparing mercy. A good night’s sleep could cure him partially of his lethargy and put his mind at ease, slipping away into the dark thrones of unconsciousness that granted him some level of safety from his own smoldering thoughts.

He wouldn’t have to think about the lingering touches that burned at him, or the seize of fear that struck his soul as Grillby leered over him in lust, or the disgusting revelation in his groin that screamed at how much he reveled in that lust.

Papyrus walked back into the living room with a thick washcloth already sponged and soaked with lukewarm water, and a medium-sized bucket filled halfway, soap bubbles accumulating at the surface of the water. He placed the bucket at the foot of the couch, and the wetness from the plastic caused a ring of water to soak through the carpet. Normally this would upset him—Papyrus was highly hygienic and cleanly—but right now, his only focus was on his brother and his brother’s conditions.

Papyrus hunkered down onto his knees, shuffling at Sans’ dangling feet, “TAKE OFF YOUR SHORTS, SANS,” Papyrus muttered softly. Sans’ eye lights shrunk into pinpricks and his phalanges shook at the fabric of his shorts. Suddenly, Sans felt ashamed and embarrassed, blush running down his face, but he dutifully slid off his shorts with a soft whimper, exposing the lechery that was left on him. Papyrus’ eye sockets opened wide, running over the multiple streaks of Grillby’s onslaught that littered on Sans’ spine, femurs, and pubis. Sans tentatively glanced at Papyrus’ face, frown sinking deep, “…bro?”

Papyrus shook his head to console Sans. He wrung the towel of its excess water, and gestured to Sans to lean in closer, not wanting to spill liquid on the couch, “NOW, HOLD STILL, I WANT TO GET THIS ALL CLEANED OFF.”

He wanted to completely erase the substance of Grillby’s filth that stained on his brother’s body.

Sans hissed when the warm towel scrubbed at his sensitive pubis like wet sandpaper, and jerked away from the fabric in pain, “damn, papyrus, that shit hurts!” 

Papyrus growled in reprimand, “WELL, IF YOU KEEP STILL, IT WOULD NOT HURT AS MUCH!” Papyrus yanked at one of Sans’ dangling ankles to keep him tethered to the couch.

Sans grumbled under his breath, “why do you have to be so rough?” He grimaced and winced again at the particularly rough stokes at his symphysis pubis, “ow, ow, ow! fuck, papyrus!” He could feel Papyrus’ claws scraping underneath the fabric, grinding along his bones.

The trails of scorched cum wasn’t wiping away as easily Papyrus thought it would; it stayed etched on Sans’ bones like skid marks, the blackness in stark contrast to the ivory. Sans angrily grabbed Papyrus’ hand, covered with the damp cloth, to tear him away from the tender bones at his pubis.

Sans sighed in frustration, “it’s not going to work that way…just leave it alone. i’ll heal it myself,” Sans slid off the couch with the intention of heading up to his bedroom where he could tend to his wounds, but Papyrus—with an expression of offended hurt plastered on his face—was quick to push him back down onto the seat of the couch.

“NO, YOU’RE TERRIBLE AT HEALING, YOU’LL PROBABLY JUST MAKE IT WORSE. I WILL DO IT,” Papyrus spread out his hands above Sans’ pubis to allow his magic to trickle out in small waves. The rush of the magical influx expanded along Sans’ bones in a soothing aura, pulsing in warmth that sent small shudders down his spine. Papyrus’ magic oozed with the intention to heal, so Sans watched as the dark marks on his pubis slowly rubbed away. It felt nice to finally have the markings of his debaucher erased from his body, the magical cleansing ruptured away the feeling of filth that clenched at his soul.

Sans softly groaned in satisfaction and slowly shut his eye sockets to relish in the restoration, purging him from the cum that stuck to him and made him feel sticky and vile, “hmm, feel’s good, pap.”

Everything was okay now that Papyrus was here, healing over him in with loving and deliberate attention. However, the relaxing image in his mind was broken when Sans opened his eye sockets to notice the sharp glare on Papyrus’ face.

Sans chuckled to alleviate the tension, “heh, thanks, bro. you’re the best. i think i’ll be good now—,”

“—I APOLOGIZE, SANS.”

Sans blinked in surprise, but kept up his smile and voice calm, “it’s not your fault, i don’t blame you.”

Papyrus clenched his jaw in anger, “YEAH WELL, I COULD HAVE DONE MORE; I COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING, ANYTHING!” His hands were trembling again, as if restraining himself from exploding in rage, “HE HAD HIS HANDS ALL OVER YOU! HE COULD HAVE DUSTED YOU!”

Sans shivered, remembering how helpless he was back at the bar, and the jolt of mistrust that struck through him under Grillby’s weight, but he couldn’t reveal these feelings to Papyrus in his effort to assuage his brother, “grillby’s an ass for sure, but he’s not a liar, bro. he wouldn’t have broken the deal.”

Papyrus fumed and threw his hands in the air in his frustration, “THAT DOESN’T MATTER, SANS! THERE IS ALWAYS THE POSSIBILITY THAT HE COULD HAVE!” Papyrus tightened his hands into fists, the leather of his gloves crinkled under the strain, and growls erupted from him.

Sans sweated in anxious concern; he really hated seeing Papyrus like this. It was so unlike him to be fearful and unsure—Sans wanted to put his brother’s mind at ease, “c’mon, bro. don’t sweat over it so much. look, i’m fine, see?” He gestured to his lower half, now clear of the dark, burning indentations that were strewn on him, “you healed over it so easily, it’s okay.”

It occurred to him how stressful it must have been for Papyrus, seeing him in the clutches of another monster—weak and defenseless—who could very much have crushed him so effortlessly. Sans has known Grillby for a while, so it was in that knowledge that he wasn’t as apprehensive as Papyrus was in those vulnerable moments. Sans could imagine how difficult it must have been for Papyrus to simply give up and give away the most important thing in his life as forfeit. Papyrus did not live by that code—his code was to always keep fighting, to keep pushing forward into that grit of determination and to not falter—but he must have been so _scared_. Sans felt simmers of bitterness well up in his soul; he couldn’t forgive Grillby for making Papyrus feel this way.

Sans spoke softly, “yeah, i admit that i was a little scared at first, but i knew that i would be okay, knowing you were there.”

Papyrus’ tense expression wore down faintly, and his voice sparked into that arrogant tone that Sans was so familiar with, “OF COURSE, SANS! YOU ARE ALWAYS SAFEST WITH ME, THAT NEEDS NO CLARIFICATION!”

“heh, yeah, i can’t argue with that,” Sans smiled, content to see his brother temporarily alleviated. 

His brother’s eye sockets narrowed, “BUT REGARDLESS, IF HE WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING TO DUST YOU—,”

“—but he didn’t, so it’s okay,” It was best to stop that train of thought before it festered and derailed into something deadly, “bro, could you imagine how much trouble that would get you in? the guard dogs, no, the entire town would have your hide if you pulled off a stunt like that!”

Papyrus scoffed. He was well aware of the popularity Grillby’s bar enraptured around town. Monsters were attracted to the security that the bar upheld; it was a space to unwind from all the stresses that the Underground wrought, and with that protection, none of the residents dared to the tarnish the only place in town that held such an upbringing. The MTT resort was pricey and extravagant, but the trek all the way to Hotland was a dangerous one, so it was convenient for the townsfolk to gather at Grillby’s where they could spend their gold and indulge in cheap pleasures and greasy food. Although, from Papyrus’ perspective, it was a pitiful place for any monster with even a small speck of self-respect to dine in.

“monsters in snowdin treat grillby’s like a fucking temple,” Sans’ tone turned authoritative and sharp, searing over in quiet anger, “so don’t think of doing any dumb shit like that!”

Papyrus grumbled under his breath, and rose from his spot on the floor to plant himself on the couch next to Sans, arms crossed defiantly, “THOSE MONSTERS DON’T SCARE ME, SANS…,” Papyrus’ voice dulled down to a hushed yet intense level, as if he was declaring some cherished secret, and his expression grew warm, “…ITS LOSING YOU THAT SCARES ME.”

A blush ran hot down Sans’ bones, anger dissipating with a small smile. He snickered under the guise of flattery, “you don’t hafta worry about that, pap. i’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for.” Sans leaned up on his lithe weight, neck craning to plant a sincere skeleton kiss that clacked softly on Papyrus teeth, “so, you don’t hafta to worry about it so much.”

Papyrus’ eye sockets ran over Sans’ relaxed face before closing in languid ease, and his arms drooped to his sides as he pressed softly into the kiss with earnest yet tender force. Sans pulled back to chuckle lightly, breath washing over Papyrus’ mouth, “besides, i gotta say…grillby’s not much of a bad fuck.”

The feelings of arousal sank back at the pit of Papyrus groin, calling his magic to coalesce and strain underneath the constriction of his uniform pants. Damn, he really needed to get off; all the bubbling erotica festered at his magic, and the image of Sans—broken and lecherous on the table and dripping with cum—back at the bar flashed through his memory. Papyrus frowned, concentrating to cover up the evident glow that emanated at his pubis. He felt shameful and gross for enjoying it, but he doubted he could ever forget how luscious Sans looked in the aftermath. He wanted to see Sans like that again, but for him.

He pulled away from Sans’ touch, feeling repulsed with himself, and his brother could not hide the hurt that struck across his face. Papyrus noted the way Sans shrunk into the cushions, muttering in hesitance, “i think that’s something we need to talk about,” Sans wrung his hands together, bones creaking in anxiousness as he sweated with the want of clarification “…you liked it, right? You were pretty into it.”

Without thought, Papyrus blurted out unequivocally and truthfully, “YES, OF COURSE!” Papyrus slowly met Sans’ concerned gaze, fearing his brother’s reaction, BUT…DID YOU?”

Sans glanced off to his side, avoiding Papyrus intense stare, “…yeah, well, some parts of it, but… i guess i didn’t like how i felt afterwards,” His shorts were still laying on the carpet in a heap, but his legs closed on reflex as he mediated on the shame that had peppered on his bones in dry, burning flakes.

Sans held in his breath for a second before he spoke honestly, “i didn’t like how…” He sighed heavily, staring at his shaking hands in his lap as he struggled to find the words, but was reassured as Papyrus waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts, “…disgusting it felt after all that, and i was scared that you would…think i was disgusting too.”

 _disgusting for liking it_ , He wanted to add.

“NYEH HEH HEH!” A quick, breathless laugh erupted from his brother, shoulders shaking loosely. 

Doubling-taking in confusion, the sweat that accumulated on Sans’ bones elevated as his eye lights honed in on Papyrus, “wha-what’s so funny?” He failed to find the humor in the conversation, and normally he was an expert on stuff like that. Was Papyrus using this as a tactic to spite him?

A few more small chuckles broke free from him when he noticed Sans’ worrying gaze, but he cleared his throat to quash down his bubbling breath, “IT’S FUNNY THAT YOU SAY THAT, BECAUSE I WAS SCARED OF THE SAME THING.”

Papyrus watched as Sans’ hands continued to wring themselves in nervousness in his lap. Papyrus frowned, expression simmering down into a destitute sadness. Sans had an awful habit of hand-wringing, and it often left Papyrus concerned for his brother’s anxiety; Sans always had his hands in his jacket pockets for a reason. He gingerly collected his brother’s hands in his own, rousing Sans to breath in sharply, “I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE ANGRY OR UPSET WITH ME, FOR REACTING THE WAY I DID.”

Subconsciously, the gentle hold that Papyrus had on Sans’s hands tightened to a vice, eliciting a small wince from his brother as his phalanges crushed together. He grumbled at his own expense, “THERE WAS NO EXCUSE FOR MY BEHAVIOR, IT WAS OBSCENE, AND FOUL, AND DISGUSTING.” His eyes sockets narrowed in anger; anger at himself for allowing the agreement to escalate the way it did, and anger at the bartender for making his brother and himself feel so doubtful of their relationship.

“HOW CAN YOU EVEN BARE TO BE WITH ME RIGHT NOW!?”

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, and Sans was very frightful as Papyrus squeezed his phalanges until they locked up from the pressure. His brother was trembling, and if he squinted, he could notice the very faint but very evident sprinkles of wetness that dabbed at the corners of Papyrus’ sockets.

“hey, pap, c’mon. don’t—don’t, fuck, you don’t have to feel that way.”

Sans couldn’t bear to see his brother so broken up, “i guess we’re both disgusting then, papyrus. so, it’s okay.” His smile grew warm and reassuring, “i don’t want you getting so worked up about this. i think we can both agree that we won’t think of each other any differently.”

Sans gave Papyrus’ phalanges an encouraging squeeze, “let’s not worry about this anymore, yeah?”

Papyrus felt his anger simmer down; he was still mildly upset, but he could appreciate Sans’ efforts to comfort him. It will take some time for him to forgive himself, and even a longer period of time to even think about that grease hole of a restaurant, but as long as Sans was here to console him, he could endure it. Papyrus’ interest piqued at Sans’ surprisingly compromising statement, releasing his staggering hold on his brother’s small hands, “YES, I SUPPOSE SO. I’M APPALLED, YOU’RE ACTUALLY RIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING.”

Sans hummed quizzingly, “when have i ever been wrong about something?”

“SHOULD I MAKE A LIST?”

“nah, you don’t have to. i’ll take your word for on it.”

“OF COURSE YOU SHOULD!”

Sans’ eye lights glowed playfully in their sockets, “i’m happy that we’ve finally disgusting this.”

Papyrus faced scrunched up in disapproval. Wow, that was really bad.

“get it? because it’s like discussing, but—,”

“YES, SANS, I GET IT. THAT WAS TERRIBLE,” Papyrus released a heavy and annoyed sigh; leave it to Sans to always ruin the moment with one of his irritating puns.

They basked in the serenity of their silence, finally feeling at ease with all the cards out on the table.

“…what did you like about it?”

Papyrus was silent for a moment as he wracked his mind to find an appropriate way to word his thoughts, “I LIKED THAT YOU LIKED IT.”

It was honest and simple.

Sans chuckled in relief; the tense atmosphere had suctioned into something soft and light. He wasn’t as ashamed as before, knowing that Papyrus derived some pleasure from their agreement with Grillby, “…i liked that you liked it too.”

It had occurred to Papyrus—for the very first time—that at the end of the day, despite everything that happened back at Grilby’s, Sans was here with _him_. Sans chose to stay here with him.

“to be honest with you…i wouldn’t mind doing it again, y’know. only if you’re up for it,” His cheeks were glowing; he couldn’t believe he was actually admitting this out loud, but it would take a lifetime to forget the way his magic throbbed in absolute pleasure in Grillby’s lust, “but we don’t have to do it anymore if you don’t want to.”

Papyrus fidgeted in his seat, staving off the memories of feeling helpless and useless as the bartender laid claim on his brother’s body, and how shamefully aroused he was in spite of it, “I WOULD RATHER NOT, AT LEAST NOT FOR SOME TIME.”

Sans nodded in understanding, “that’s okay, it was just a suggestion.”

Papyrus squarely folded his arms over his chest to signify his ire, “I DO NOT WANT TO REMEMBER THAT UNREFINED INCIDENT. AND, I MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT WANT TO REMEMBER HOW HE THREW YOU AROUND LIKE A TOY, OR THAT LECHEROUS DISPLAY YOU PUT ON!”

Sans raised a browbone in amusement. Papyrus wasn’t fooling anyone, the bulge in his pants was evidence of that.

“YOU WERE SO INDECENT, SANS. SO VILE AND DIRTY.”

A pinch of surprise rattled through him, eye sockets bulging wide, when he felt Sans’ hand tugging at the zipper of his pants in eagerness, “nah, pap. i think you like me being dirty,” The low sound of the zipper stringing down the fabric resounded tantalizingly in the quiet of their home, causing Papyrus to shiver in anticipation.

Sans’ voice dropped to a low octave that rumbled deep and sensual, “how about it, bro? let’s get dirty together.”

Papyrus’ matched Sans’ husky tone with his own, but it rumbled something fierce and almost menacing, “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”

A brink of sweat ran down Sans’s mandible as he felt the instinctive urge to recoil away, but his smug smile stayed in place and twitched at the corners, “what do you think?” Sans inched closer to Papyrus’ baffled face, so close that his breath washed over Papyrus’ teeth, enticing his brother’s jaw to part, “i know you’ve just been just burning up to get off, heh.”

“UGH! SANS, PLEASE.” Papyrus groaned in exasperation.

Eye lights tinkling, harboring mischief and playfulness, Sans scooted from his positon on the couch to straddle Papyrus, knees digging into the couch on both sides of Papyrus’ iliac crests, but he kept his pelvis elevated to avoid contact. Papyrus followed Sans’ relaxed gaze to the scarf wrapped around his neckbone. Sans smirked as his phalanges threaded lovingly into the soft fabric of Papyrus’ scarf, “SANS,WHAT—,”

Papyrus was cut short when Sans abruptly gripped his scarf, pulling it tight on his vertebrates and yanking his skull to clank flush against Sans’ teeth. Papyrus was sure it had to hurt for Sans when their skulls bumped together, but Sans showed no sign of discomfort.

Sans slipped his eye sockets closed, amused at his brother’s incredulous expression, “just shut up and relax.” His words held no spite or ill-will.

Papyrus’ soul flip-flopped and pounded behind his sternum in want; he needed Sans to be closer, and his groin ached with a need so acute it could not be contained. His magic was pent-up due to neglect, and after hours of rejecting his magic with coercive control, he wanted nothing more than to throw his brother down on the couch to ravish him. But he imagined how exhausted Sans must be—taking his fragile and weak stamina into account—so he restrained himself, allowing his brother to take the reign and set the pace. Even though the slow, sluggish momentum was bound to torture him in pleasant frustration. Self-control was doomed to snap, but he retained his hold on his lust; he thought it was the least he could for Sans after the gross things he did.

Papyrus resorted to gripping the couch under him to control himself, claws clamped into a lock on the cushions.

Teeth pressed together and stifling the muggy warmth between them, Sans manifested a tongue to slowly swipe along the bone, smearing saliva that stuck like sap to Papyrus’ teeth. Papyrus’ mouth quivered open to spawn a tongue of his own, licking away the residue that sparked his magic erect. Catching Sans’ tongue in drooling breaths, his eye sockets fell heavier and heavier into a peaceful closing, groaning when he could feel his magic expanding and stretching to take shape. Sans’ smirk widened, sharp teeth glinting in the darkened glow of their living room, when he felt the tip of Papyrus’ member rubbing teasingly at his pubis symphysis, begging for entry and spreading pre-ejaculate in its wake. Papyrus’ hips ached with the need to buck, but Sans lifted himself higher, delaying the gratification that his brother so desperately needed.

Papyrus grumbled in frustration, fangs clenched down, “SANS, JUST FUCK ME ALREADY!” With the teasing and slow tempo, he could not stand anymore of it.

“calm down, we don’t have to rush.”

Sans pulled away, and Papyrus—with unwarranted want in his eyes—was entranced at how the string of sticky saliva webbed between their tongues. Papyrus’ vision was hazy in his revelry, and his skull spun from the heat. Sans wagged his appendage provocatively, “you’re so dirty, papyrus,” He leaned in to plaster another skeleton kiss to Papyrus’ sharp teeth, doting over the way Papyrus whimpered under his control. It was a heady feeling that sent jolts of arousal to his soul, “i wanna dirty you up more.”

Papyrus could only moan heartedly in agreement; he was lost to the sensations, unable to even formulate words with his arousal clouding up his mind. With feverish sweat dripping from his bones, Sans dove back into a kiss with a wanton gasp, demanding control. Papyrus relented. Their tongues pressed harder to get inside, and Sans’ grip on his brother’s scarf loosened until the cloth slithered off Papyrus’ neck. He caressed Papyrus’ exposed clavicles in light brushes, wracking his brother to small shivers. The bones were unmarked due to the protection his scarf supplied, the untouched ivory was in stark contrast to the rest of Papyrus’ body which was littered with chips and scars from battle damage. Papyrus hardly ever took off his scarf, and Sans felt a sense of pride surge through him; he was able to freely poke and prod at his brother’s most vulnerable and sensitive bones.

At the touches of affection, Papyrus craned his neck back to allow his skull to rest up against the top of the couch, face lax with a soothed smile he did not know he was wearing.

“there you go. feels good, right?” Sans cooed softly, content to seeing his brother breathless and serene, “just let me do the work.”

He groaned at the butterfly strokes, and Sans leaned in to pepper his neckbone with placid kisses and tender licks. The heat burned at his groin, and the desperation throttled his skull. He latched onto the lapels of Sans’ jacket to find purchase. Papyrus rested his cheekbone on Sans’ temple in encouragement, moans sluiced in wet, warm pants. Then the soothing sensations ebbed away when he felt a prickling bite on his clavicles, emitted a sharp yelp in alarm from him.

“OW, OW, SANS?!” His breath roiled into a muted growl as Sans’ teeth pinched and nibbled on the bone. Sans’ teeth were not as jagged or sharp as his own, but the pointed edges appeased at his vertebrate and clavicles that had his toes curling in his boots. Sans knew all of Papyrus hot, sensitive spots and it was exciting for him to be the one in control; to be stable and secure. Sans’ plucking and biting was sure to make a bruise, and Papyrus grunted at a particularly sharp nibble and then exhaled at the slow lick along the incision that pacified the sting. Face smug, Sans pulled Papyrus into another kiss to silence his groans.

Sans’ legs threatened to give out under him from kneeling in his position for so long, bones creaking under the strain. He maneuvered himself to alleviate some of the pressure on his knees, but he lost his footing, and his pelvic bones ushered down heavy on Papyrus’ erection, causing them both to gasp in unison. Sans’ magic had yet to properly manifest due to the rough exertion it was put through from before. He could not find the energy to make an opening, so he winced when Papyrus’ cock jammed through his pubic inlet, pushing hard against his sacrum.

“SANS, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” Papyrus’ hips trembled with the urge to thrust, but he kept his lust lidded tight.

Biting his tongue, Sans backed away from Papyrus’ panting mouth, tongue curling at the corner of his jaw to taste what was left from their kiss, “yeah, i’m still a little sore.”

“MY HEALING SHOULD HAVE WORKED,” Papyrus clarified, but his voice was laced with concern.

Sans was quick to assuage him, “no, bro. your healing is fine, it’s just me.”

With quivering joints, Sans pushed himself up to let Papyrus’ erection slip out of him. It throbbed and twitched on his pubis symphysis, and Sans gazed at it with mocking pity, humor striking him, “aw, you really want to get off, huh? can’t wait to bone me?”

Papyrus grumbled, annoyed with Sans’ constant teasing, “DON’T PATRONIZE ME, SANS!”

Sans snickered under his breath, and he slowly wrapped his phalanges around the base of Papyrus’ cock, excitement pounding through him as he felt it pulse in his hands. Papyrus gasped wetly, and he struggled not to burst from one, simple pump from Sans’ hand. Sans curled his phalanges around the pulsing organ that had been ignored. He felt it was time to do Papyrus justice.

“i’m too tired to fuck, but i won’t leave you hanging, bro.”

Papyrus’ cock was as hard as cement due to the situation, and Sans massaged the underside of it, wanting to twist out all Papyrus had to offer in gushing squirts. Sans reaffirmed his grip to stroke and pump from the base to the tip, eye lights glazed over in memorization and thirst as he ran the small tip of his phalange over the narrow slit that dribbled with small beads of magic.

Papyrus’ eye sockets were flickering as he endured beautiful agony, “MMMM YES, S’GOOD.” Papyrus snapped his jaw shut to contain his pathetic whimpers and moans.

“i know it feels good, you don’t have to hold it in.”

He continued to fist and churn in his efforts, addicted to Papyrus’ sighs and groans. Papyrus was shaking and bubbling for his own air, pelvis pumping in tandem to the grueling fondling of his cock. It was so frustrating for him; his magical build-up was festering and his claws threatened to rip out the cushions under him. Papyrus’ cock was twitching in strong spasms under Sans’ hands and he could not draw his fascination away; it was leaking over his bones, dribbling over Sans’ phalanges and staining his black pants. He could feel his orgasm coming, boiling over and edging to that blissful end, and his hips stuttered to a stop as his body locked up for the release. Without warning, Sans took it upon himself to _squeeze_ , wringing out the thick droplets that pooled heavily at the tip of his cock.

“AHHH, GAH!” Papyrus blubbered, his orgasm struck through him, and his eye sockets snapped shut, face contorted in pleasure. Papyrus’ release drenched over Sans’ metacarpals as he continued to churn the throbbing member to milk out the remains.

“all better?” Sans asked simply, but Papyrus could detect the small speck of pride in his voice. Papyrus could not speak, still engulfed in his ecstasy. Sans raised himself up from the couch, careful to not spill anymore fluid that ran over his hand, he eyed the bucket and cloth that was left unattended from before. He snatched up the wet cloth and dipped it in the now cool water, and dutifully wiped away the excess magic that soaked his hand and Papyrus’ black uniform pants.

Sans nestled back into Papyrus’ lap, and rubbed his phalanges in soothing circles on Papyrus’ clavicles in a gesture that was loving. On instinct, Papyrus reciprocated, and enclosed his arms around Sans’ frame. He reached for his brother’s red scarf laying on the cushion next to them to wrap it back around Papyrus’ neck before snuggling into its warmth.

Sans whispered close to Papyrus’ skull, quietly and gently, “are you okay?”

Papyrus nodded, still incapable of speech.

Sans slightly pulled away to meet Papyrus’ eye sockets, louder, his voice trembling, he asked again, “really? are you really okay?”

“YES, SANS. I’M FINE,” Papyrus answered gruffly, tightening his arms around Sans. “I AM PRETTY GREAT, IT IS NOTHING YOU HAVE TO CONCERN YOURSELF WITH.”

Smiling in content, Sans buried his skull against Papyrus’ neck to hold his brother close. He breathed, “heh, yeah. can’t argue with that. you’re the greatest of greats.”

They said little else, satisfied in their silence. They were the same; the same as they have always been.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was nearly a week before Sans broke down and decided to go to Grillby’s again. However, Papyrus actively voiced his disapproval by lecturing Sans on the hazards and sheer stupidity of the idea. There was still an aura of tension between his brother and the general vicinity of the restaurant, but Sans knew that it stemmed from his brother’s protective urges. Sans did not appreciate being coddled; he did not like to feel small, insignificant, and breakable. He was used to defending his brother in their youth, but it felt entirely too awkward for him to be excessively shielded. He reciprocated Papyrus exasperating lectures with his own counterarguments; he did not need to be babied, and running away from the issue was sure to spark suspicions from the regulars at the bar.

Their agreement with Grillby was sensitive and secret, and with enough bartering, Sans was able to convince Papyrus that everything would be fine. 

And goddamn it, he really needed a drink to cut his stresses.

Sans chose to leave his house at a late hour, he knew when the bar was slowest during the business day, and he wanted to alleviate some of his and Papyrus’ worries. It would be easier for him to merge back into his routine without the weight of everyone staring at him. He was slightly apprehensive of how Grillby might react to his unwarranted and unannounced disappearance, and with every soft crunch of snow beneath the soles of his shoes, he could feel his apprehension sinking deeper into the pit of his soul.

Stepping inside, the rush of familiar warmth struck him squarely in the face, but he kept his shaking hands in his pockets to hide his unease.

To his relief, only two monsters were straggling inside, and the guard dog unit was not around in their standard sprawl. Grillby was at his signature station behind the serving counter, polishing shot glasses. His back was turned away from the entrance door, but even from a distance, Sans just knew that Grillby was aware of his presence; he could tell in the way the fire elemental’s shoulders rounded back, and the way Grillby’s crackling, purple fire ignited almost profusely.

The frigid wind made the door slam shut behind him, and he tried his hardest to keep an aloof façade. It was just to stop by for a quick drink, he told himself, nothing more and nothing less.

Biggs, the wide-mouthed plant monster inebriated from his fourth drink, was the first to speak. His smile stretched extensively along his foliage, leering in Sans’ general direction, and his speech was in long drawls, “Sans? Where have you been, buddy? We all thought you’ve died off in snow poff or somethin’.” Biggs bellowed in laughter, tongue lolling and spraying globs of gangly saliva that leaked from the side of his mouth. 

Biggs was…a strange monster, to put it simply. He had an odd fascination with foods of all variety, and he was best known for spending flagrant amounts of gold to sample every item on Grillby’s menu. No one knew for sure what job he held to earn so much revenue to just waste it away on food, but Sans found him rather repulsive. Sans wouldn’t be surprised if he found out the guy snacked on small monsters. 

“nah, just haven’t been feeling it lately, y’know?” Sans’ voice turned mocking, eye lights glinting in their sockets, “were you actually worried about me? that’s so sweet of you, thinking about me.”

Biggs’ smile clenched tightly, fangs snapping in annoyance, “You don’t have to be such a smart ass, Sans.” A vine slithered up from the edge of the bar booth he was sitting in to snag at Sans’ coat, thorns digging into the fabric.

“i have to be when it’s with you, biggs,” Sans winked condescendingly. “who else is going to do that for you?”

The vine snaked around his arm, nearly lurching him into the booth. Biggs’ husky breath was heavy and moist in the air, the sweltering stench of alcohol hit him hard, and he gripped the edge of the table for leverage, “Looking for a fight, Sans?” Two more vines slithered up his arms, sharpened thorns prickling on the thick material of his coat, almost hard enough to tear through it, and his voice gurgled and belched in his intoxication, “Come on then, why don’t you give me a taste of what you got? 

The red bird monster called out, annoyed, “C’mon, Biggs. Grillbz says to settle down,”

Biggs snarled but relinquished his hold on Sans’ coat, sticking his vines in the air to showcase his surrender, “I was just messing with him! I wasn’t actually going to do anything, I swear!”

Grillby did not condone brawls in his restaurant; he had zero tolerance over it to uphold his reputation. Any instance of physical disputes were promptly thrown out the door.

Sans turned away sharply, smile still plastered in a sneer but nervous sweat fairly evident, “nice talking to you, biggs. ”

He could hear plant monster grumbling behind him as he approached the front counter

“Biggs wasn’t the only one concerned about you, Sans. Grillbz been rather quiet the past couple of days,” The red bird monster, aptly named Red, was slouching lazily on the bar counter, but her eyes was hazed with some kind of suspicious glare.

“has he now?” Sans hopped onto his usual spot on the bar stool, but Grillby had yet to turn in his direction to acknowledge him. Quite frankly, it pissed him off; what kind of guise was Grillby trying to pull?

Red waved a wing dismissively in the air, “Yeah, but he won’t talk to me about it for some reason.”

Grillby pretended not to hear her, and his voice was eerily soft as he continued to clean shot glasses behind the counter, “What would you like tonight, Sansy?”

“just my usual drink, thanks,” Sans stuffed his hands in his pockets, not quite meeting Grillby’s eyes. He did not want to encourage any type of engaging behavior with the bartender.

Grillby clicked his tongue and turned, flashing Sans a grin that twinkled impishly, “Is that _all_ you would like tonight?”

Red’s eyes darted back and forth between Sans and Grillby quizzingly before sneering to her side, rolling her eyes. This caught Sans’ attention, Red wasn’t the type to be so resentful, and he wondered what happened between the two of them to cause such a strain. Red was practically shooting him dagger-like scowls, but he overlooked that to remain reserved. Seriously, what the hell was her problem? “…yeah, grillbz, just the drink.”

Grillby nodded once, but the knowing smirk was still stretched across his face, and he disappeared behind the kitchen doors. Once Grillby was out of sight, unexpectedly, Red whipped her head around to glower at him, and her feathers ruffled up in anger, “What the hell, Sans? What did you do to him?” Her voice dripped with venom as she growled, “ I’m serious. What. Did. You. _Do_?”

He’d never seen her so mad before, considering that she was always so aloof and calm, but this was something foreign to him. The absurdity of it all made him laugh. She looked like a red snow poff with her feathers sticking out haphazardly in all of her unwarranted spite.

Sans was truly confused, “what are you talking about, red. i didn’t do anything to him.”

“What I’m talking about, _Sansy_ ,” She sneered over the nickname, “Are all the secrets. Grillbz never keeps anything from me, and ever since your little ‘stunt’, he doesn’t even acknowledge me.”

Sans raised a browbone, still completely confounded, “what does that have to do with anything? i don’t get, red. so he hasn’t been talking as much, so what?”

“I’ve known Grillbz for a long time, longer than you and your brother have been around—if you haven’t noticed—I’m really good at reading him,” Red squinted through her ire, “He won’t talk to me, but he has no problem talking to _you_.”

Sans chuckled nervously as he picked at a grease stain on the countertop, “so, you and grillby are on the rocks? heh.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Sans. What makes you so special?” She pointed at him accusingly, “Just what went on between you and Grillbz, huh?”

This was entirely nerve-wracking, Red was very inquisitive, almost as if she _knew_. It was very much true—besides from Sans— that Red was the bartender’s best and most loyal customer. She knew almost all there was to know about Grillby, and she was keen at deciphering the bartender’s mediations and motives. It was almost unnerving how knowledgeable she was, and her protective impulses following up with that knowledge came off as irksome. Sans had to throw her off her suspicions.

“you’re worrying about nothing, red.” Sans spoke with sharp emphasis, something he hardly ever did, “nothing happened. end of story. so just drop it, alright.”

Red’s anger waned somewhat when the sharp, crackling sounds of flames resounded from the kitchen doors. Grillby’s head poked out from the entrance of the kitchen doors, eyes shaded behind his glasses “…Red, I’m closing up for tonight. It’s time for you to go home.” He nodded in Sans’ direction, “…Sans, you may stay until you to finish off your drink.” 

Blanked, Red stared at the bartender in disbelief, then shot a glance at Sans, and then back again at Grillby, and her face soured, “Really, Grillbz? You’re kicking me out?”

“Not just you, Biggs too. He’s clearly had enough. Take him with you.”

Now it was Sans’ turn to gawk; he’d never witnessed Grillby and Red as quarrelsome, and Red remained glued to her chair, sizing up that bartender as if she dared him to initiate a feud. But she was met with no malice as Grillby remained unaffected. She growled and forcefully pushed back her chair so that it grated on the hardwood floor, “Fine, whatever. I’m sick of dealing with your shit, anyway.”

She hopped down from her seat, not meeting Grillby’s eyes and waved a wing back-handedly to gesture Biggs over, “C’mon, Biggs.”

Head face-down on the table, Biggs only grumbled unintelligibly, saliva drooling from his mouth in his intoxication. Red walked over to fling a vine over her shoulder, allowing Biggs to sag against her torso, and she gave Grillby one more bitter look before lugging out the door, “I’ll see you later, Grillbz.”

Grillby mused, “…Have a good night.” He slipped back into the kitchen without another word or gesture.

Sans wanted to know why tensions were so high between Red and Grillby, but he declined; it wasn’t any of his of business.

Soon enough, Grillby—barring an expression of smugness—came back to the counter holding a plate of oily fries to showcase, and the scent alone made Sans’ mouth water. It had been so long without his usual consumption of greasy food, but Sans had a clue at what Grillby was poking at; it was a smart move to seduce him through the temptation of food.

“…I brought your favorite, Sansy,” Grillby dutifully set the fries down on the table, but then his face sparked in recollection. “…Oh, and how could I forget the most important ingredient?” With that, Grillby snatched a full container of mustard sitting abandoned on the other side of the counter, and squirted out the condiment to drench the fries in thick globs.

It was so tantalizing, but Sans held his ground. He knew full well what Grillby was doing, and he had no intention of playing along. Sans held himself steady, “thanks for the fries, grillby, but i asked for a drink.”

Grillby’s eyebrows waggled jauntily, “I think you are going to want to be sober for what I have to tell you. Go on and eat it before it gets cold.”

Sans was hesitant, but damn those fries looked absolutely delicious; it wouldn’t hurt to have a couple.

The bartender hummed in contentment, watching Sans consume his food, “…I’m glad that you stopped by tonight, Sans. I missed you.”

Sans nearly choked on a fry, smearing mustard along his teeth.

The bartender chuckled softly and readjusted his jacket suit, “…I couldn’t get you out of my mind all week. Papyrus too. Where is he by the way? I haven’t seen him marching around recently.” Elbow resting on the table, Grillby laid his head on his palm before sighing, “You should invite him to come along sometimes. He is more than welcome to visit.”

Okay, now this was too weird. Sans was highly suspicious, “grillby, are you drunk or something? did i hear that right?” Since when has Grillby ever been interested in Papyrus? Grillby had his own agendas, and never seemed to take interest in his customers’ personal lives, so this declaration was fairly rousing.

Grillby’s mouth drew down to a frown, “I was worried about your brother from before, he does not seem to like me very much. To be honest with you, I would like to get to know him better.”

Sans gulped harshly. So, that was what Red must have been implying earlier, with Grillby being distant and noncommunicative. It was odd for Grillby to show so much enthusiasm and concern for his brother; if Grillby wasn’t such an ass, Sans would have found it slightly flattering.

“i hate to break it to you, grillbz, but i don’t think my brother will be coming around anytime soon. he’s still hung up from what happened before.”

Papyrus all but refused to go anywhere near the vicinity of the restaurant, but Sans put it in good graces to not push Papyrus on the issue.

“…Speaking of which, how are you paying for your meal tonight, Sans? Did you think about my offer from before?” The fire elemental laughed lowly in his throat, flames gleaming, “I’ve missed that pussy of yours.”

Suddenly, Sans’ mind dipped into erotic memories as he thought about how the bartender had taken him, forced him down, pinning him and pumping him till he overflowed. Now sporting a heated blush, Sans grimaced, “that’s not happening, grillby. it’s unnecessary, i’ll pay the regular way.”

With deliberateness, Grillby stood up straight and stark, imposing large over Sans small body, “What’s wrong, did you not enjoy yourself before? I hardly believe you, you were sucking me in so tight, like you didn’t want to let go.”

The blush burned hotter down his bones, “i’m not doing it again, grillby, so just forget about it.” Papyrus was so distraught over everything that happened, and he wasn’t prepared to deal with the emotional consequences of allowing the bartender to take him.

The purple flames from Grillby’s body sparked heavily, “I knew you would be difficult, Sans, but I would advise you to accept my offer.”

Grillby tapped his finger on the countertop in contemplation, “Business has been… rather stagnant. Monsters aren’t coming around like they used to. My customers are bored and they want something new, something fresh, and I have taken it upon myself to cater to their needs. I have been thinking about this for over a week now, and you and your brother have presented an excellent opportunity for me to spark up some excitement in this dull town.”

“what the hell are you talking about?”

Chuckling softly, Grillby’s leer sharpened in deviance, “Don’t act so clueless, Sans. You and I both know how my customers behave around you. The guard dogs, Biggs—they all _want_ you, and I’m serving you as my special dish.”

The plate of fries went undisturbed, untouched, and marginally cold. Sans couldn’t take another bite; he was sure he would vomit them back up in disgust, “grillby…wha—what are you saying?”

The tapping on the counter ceased, filling the bar with almost absolute silence besides the soft crackle of Grillby’s flames, “To put it bluntly, I am offering you another job… as an escort for my customers.”

Speechless in astonishment, Sans could feel the bile rising up, acidic and burning. This could not be happening. Papyrus was right, why didn’t he listen to him and stay at home?

“I’ve already added some renovations to back room. I’ve developed an accommodating system that I believe you will appreciate.” The bartender smiled sardonically, “Do not look so fearful. There is nothing you have to worry about, Sans. I am well aware of the state of your HP. Your safety will be my top priority.” Grillby winked in the signature way Sans would, “You are my favorite customer after all. I promise to take good care of you.”

“and if i refuse?” Blinking through his trauma, Sans challenged threateningly, calling to the threshold of his magic.

“…You won’t kill me, Sansy. I’m too valuable,” The fire elemental barely flinched, posture relaxed. “I knew you would be stubborn, but your reputation is not the only one at risk in this situation.”

There was no outlet, Sans already knew where this was heading, and he damned himself for not anticipating this sooner.

“Undyne is instigating new merits and regulations for her Guardsmen,” Grillby poked a finger at the edge of Sans’ jaw, catching a small bit of mustard that clung on the bone, allowing it to sizzle on his fingertip, “Her patience has been running thin from recent acts of juvenile behavior, and any form of misconduct is dealt with swift justice, even termination.”

It sounded like regurgitation, Grillby was hardly ever so articulate. Sans’ voice was tiny and barely audible, quivering in trepidation, “where’d you hear all this stuff? i didn’t take you to be into politics.”

Examining the froth of mustard on his fingertip, Grillby brought the appendage to his mouth to flirtatiously lick it away, “I have my sources, Sans. When you hold the most popular establishment in this region of the Underground, monsters are bound to tell you things…and provide favors.” He was unabashedly boastful, and his flames ignited in high sparks.

Grillby inclined over the countertop to cross his arms on the table. He glowered over Sans’ small frame, smile spread wide as his tone turned mocking, “Don’t you know what that means, Sans? You and your brother have to hold some accountability of your actions. Prostitution is a high legal offense in the ranks of the Royal Guard.”

Grillby chortled and the flames from his body crackled under the duress, “Can’t you imagine it, Sans? Papyrus, a respected and aspiring runner-up for second in command, harboring a whore of an older brother? Can you imagine the humiliation, the embarrassment? Undyne would not accept such shamefulness in high elite of her royal guardsmen. Surely, if she ever found out, the end result could be detrimental.”

In slew of everything, Sans was barrenly quiet, and the lights in his eye sockets vanished as it all came crashing down on him heavily. Grillby had him a bind, and he could not find any solace or legroom to work his way out of it. He screwed up, but this time, it was his brother that would take the fall, and Sans was powerless to stop it. Papyrus didn’t deserve any of this. Sans wallowed in self-deprecation; Papyrus deserved far better of a brother than him. Because when it came all down to it, Sans had failed to protect the one thing in his life worth protecting.

Grillby was characteristically calm, and this unnerved him. Chills shot down his spine at how nonchalant the bartender was, conversing with him as if they we talking about the weather, “You don’t want that for Papyrus, do you?”

Smiling, Grillby adjusted the lapels of his suit before speaking, amusement laced in his voice, “…Sans, I’m going to be frank with you. It would not be wise to decline my generosity, this is an exclusive offer for you, my friend.”

Sans scoffed, this was unreal, how often do friends threaten to blackmail each other? Sans shook his skull in disbelief, unable to formulate words at how absurd this all was. His phalanges trembled on the counter, and profuse sweat dribbled down the back of his neck, and it was not from the heat that sweltered in the bar. He couldn’t do this, he _couldn’t_. Accepting such a lecherous offer would ruin Papyrus’ career if any monster found out. The Royal Guard meant so much to his brother, and Sans would never forgive himself if Papyrus lost the only aspiration he held so dear and close to his soul. But then again, if he refused, Papyrus’ livelihood would still be at stake; it would not matter anyway, he was screwed either way. Grillby was many things, but a liar was not one of them, and Sans held with true conviction that Grillby was not bluffing. 

Grillby tsked low in his throat, but the sound was condescending, “It’s a shame. Papyrus works so hard, so diligently. He has so much potential to make a change, and unlike you, he has enough stride to be successful.”

Sans grew desperate, and he could not control his shaking, “you can’t do this, grillby…there has to be something else i can do! you don’t have to drag my brother into this!” He slammed his hand down onto the countertop, “you already got what you wanted before! but this is fucking insane!”

Growling low, Grillby leaned down to whisper against his skull, fire sizzling on the bone, causing Sans to flinch, “…You have no other choice, Sansy. You cannot bribe me with empty promises. This is my offer; accept it or leave it.”

The eyes behind Grillby’s glasses glinted with mischief. The proposition laid heavy and stagnant in the air, and Sans had to weigh his options. But conclusively, he had no other options. He’d risk it, if it meant Papyrus’ career wasn’t scandalized. Sans broke the silence timidly, bones rattling, “…fine, grillby. you win, i’ll do it.”

Grillby clasped his hands behind his back in triumph, “…Smart choice.”

“but only on one condition…i don’t want papyrus knowing. he has enough to stress out about already. i don’t want to add anymore burdens on him.”

It was not difficult for Sans to admit to himself that at this point, he was the heaviest burden on Papyrus’ shoulders. He felt like the scum of the Earth.

Grillby snorted back-handedly, shaking his head in amusement, “Sans, it doesn’t matter if Papyrus knows or not, that won’t change anything. He’s an accomplice, and my offer extends to him as well.”

Sans’ eye lights dilated in shock, “what…what are you talking about! i just told you that _i_ would do it!”

“That was the reason why I was hoping your brother would be here with you tonight, I wanted to discuss this with him too. Albeit, I have different plans for him, but I believed it would be more prudent to converse with him face-to-face.”

“hell no, papyrus stays out of this!” Sans tried his hardest to level his voice to be authoritative and stern.

Grillby looked at him almost pitifully, “You can try all you like to keep this from him, Sans. I will respect your wishes, I will not tell him. But, if he does find out on his own accord, and takes it upon himself to become involved, I will allow it without hesitation.

No, that would not happen, Sans was damn sure of it.

Grillby leaned over the counter, leering a smirk that sparked with deviant intentions, fire crackling softly and warmth wrapping around Sans’ bones that lured him into a trance, “We can hash out the details tomorrow; there is much we need to discuss, but for now…,” Grillby tilted Sans’ jaw with the underside of his finger to beckon a kiss. Sans’ phalanges scraped on the hard wood of the counter, unable to move, unable to speak. Grillby’s breath smelled like ash and his blistering tongue swiped along Sans’ teeth.

“…Your first payment is overdue.”

Sans could not fathom what he’d gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally completed! I know, this was late, and I apologize. I wanted to have this out a week ago, but school and work have put me behind schedule.
> 
> Anyway, this is only the completion of part one for my new series, **Silver Platter**. This was originally going to be a two-chapter fic, but I've had an influx of sinfully delicious ideas ;)
> 
> I don't want to spoil much, but there will be more Sansby ~~(as well as some Papby in the future)~~
> 
>  
> 
> So, there will be a follow-up to this fic, hopefully very soon! Be on the look out for the sequel, **Struggling to Serve**!
> 
>  
> 
> [My sin bin](https://some-bad-bones.tumblr.com)


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